Red hot Russian

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It was a case of third time lucky yesterday for Russian Marat Safin who had lost two previous Australian Open finals. But he had to overcome a sluggish and erratic start to grind down third seed Lleyton Hewitt.Photo: Ray Kennedy

Lleyton Hewitt gave it his best and worst, but it was not enough
to beat Marat Safin, one of the few who is his peer in matters of
brilliance and darkness. Two sets of demons met, those Hewitt had
been fighting bravely all tournament long and those Safin harboured
from defeats in two previous finals here. Safin exorcised his, but
Hewitt could not conquer his, and so was a championship won.

Safin had done it hard in his epic semi-final victory over Roger
Federer, but Hewitt had done it hard for the whole fortnight. This
was a bridge and a battle too far. In another time, or in other
circumstances, Hewitt's ways might have got under Safin's skin.
Last night, it was Hewitt's skin - fatigue, expectation,
exasperation - that itched and could not be scratched.

Upon winning, Safin made no more an extravagant gesture than to
clench his fist, for he understood what this occasion meant to
Hewitt and to Australia, and was not about to flaunt his triumph.
He will be all the more loved for it. "Too good, too good," Hewitt
said to him at the net.

The story is simply told. Hewitt was rampant at the start of the
match, Safin at the end. The axis was the beginning of the third
set when the contest escalated in every facet; in every aspect.

Hewitt saved three break points in the first game, each
accompanied an increasingly louder exclamation of "c'mon". Safin
saved a break point in the second game when the umpire overruled a
linesman, provoking a tirade from Hewitt.

But Safin lost his serving anyway, whereupon he dashed his
racquet into the court and Hewitt roared. It could fairly be said
that there was a racquet on the court at one end and a racket at
the other. Safin had words with umpire Carlos Ramos, but sensibly,
they were in Spanish.

In the seventh game, Hewitt was called for a foot fault when
serving at break point. Serving again, he won the point after an
epic rally, whereupon he rounded on the linesman, pointing and
howling, for which display he was charged with a code violation by
the umpire. Here were all the hallmarks of the Hewitt game
condensed into a moment.

It was an alchemy that had worked for him before in this
tournament, but did not now when he needed it most. The growing
commotion masked a fundamental development in the game: Safin's
serve had come on strong, Hewitt's had weakened and with it his
control of the game. Safin won seven games in a row to seize
control of the match. As long as he did not lose his nerve, he
could not lose the title. He did not.

It was a night to remember; a night hard to forget. Classics can
no more be scheduled than thunderstorms, and are less easily
forecast.

Moving like a master now and it was Hewitt who was nonplussed.
The crowd in Rod Laver Arena had been hushed in the first set,
expecting more of a contest, and now was hushed again, longing for
a contest. Safin had managed just two aces in the first two sets,
but served nine in this set alone.

Hewitt won the first set by keeping the ball in play in the way
of Andre Agassi. It was a simple plan, but subtle, too. He was the
smaller man with the seemingly lesser game, but, by making Safin
play one ball after another, he established himself as the
aggressor.

Safin won only 11 points in the first set, which slipped by in
just 23 minutes. It seemed then that this year's Open would be a
repeat of last for Safin, in which an epic semi-final victory
sapped him and left him flat in the final. For Hewitt, it seemed
the final would be a counterpoint to the rest of the tournament.
After a fortnight of fighting and conquering all sorts of devils,
here was a day and a match with none at all, least of all on the
other side of the net.

But Safin had shown in his semi-final that he is not so easily
vanquished, and Hewitt had demonstrated throughout the tournament
that he does not so easily conquer. In the second set, Safin found
his rhythm and Hewitt lost a little of his. One break of serve was
enough.

Thereafter the game ran away from Hewitt. His game collapsed,
Safin's flourished, and the Russian's game at his best is always
worth watching. Hewitt looked into his box, but perhaps saw only
Greg Norman, a great player but unlucky in the big moments.

In a sense, this completed the 30-year remaking of the
Australian Open. From the time of Edmondson's win in 1976, the
tournament declined. Isolation, cramped facilities at Kooyong, and
a diminishing preference for grass imperilled its future. The
opening of Flinders Park in 1988 was the start of the
rehabilitation. Pat Cash lost narrowly to Mats Wilander in that
final, but no Australian had played for the title since until last
night. A trail was blazed, but only last night can it be said to
have been trodden to its end.

Small wonder chief executive Paul McNamee dared to think that
this might have been not just exceptional, but unlikely to be
repeated. For the sixth year in a row, more than 500,000 came. On
one day, more came than ever before at any major tournament. The
remaking of the Open is a fait accompli.

The Centenary Open will be remembered best for the death-defying
adventures of Hewitt and the rousing run of Alicia Molik, for any
sporting event must be more cherished for the success of local
stars.

But it will also be remembered for a series of epic matches.
Both semi-finals and the women's final went to three sets, and all
were won from behind. Safin's conquest of Roger Federer in the
first men's semi-final after saving match point and then holding
his nerve while losing five match points of his own was the stuff
of instant legend.

For suspense, it was matched by Hewitt's quarter-final victory
over David Nalbandian.